


sixty-five percent water

by local_lonely_ghost



Series: sea and stars: a study on releasing tension [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast), The Adventure Zone: Amnesty (Podcast)
Genre: Alien Culture, Character Study, M/M, Nesting, Trans Duck Newton, autistic duck, based on an emotional rant i did, character study through ships, echolalia representation, harmful societal norms, i will die on this hill, i'm very sad and have a lot of feelings leave me alone, moth language, neurodivergent indrid cold, nonbinary indrid cold, snuggle city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-15
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-03-05 18:07:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18833947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/local_lonely_ghost/pseuds/local_lonely_ghost
Summary: everyone who terrifies you is sixty-five percent water. the world that duck newton navigates is difficult, especially in the face of what is considered "typical" social norms. when faced with a culture lacking stigma that directly works against his success, maybe he can finally... breathe. suddenly, things don't seem so insanely out of reach.





	sixty-five percent water

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to everyone in the 800 amnesty servers i'm in for directly supporting my attempts and sliding into my first fandom that i've directly had contact with. i have several things in the works and this just so happened to be the first thing i finished due to a really weird headspace i got into today due to pure chaos. i wrote this in that headspace based on an emotional rant i did about human social standards vs finding some forest demon who's never seen a flashlight before and it tumbled into "indrid cold doesn't care about even looking human why does he care about what they find acceptable?" in relation to a duck newton who struggles to find his place. i decided not to get a beta reader for this because due to the somewhat fragile headspace i was in while writing, having to edit it would have made me hesitant to post it. i wasn't quite sure where to end it either so hopefully it isn't so jarring? thank you again to all the wonderful new friends i've made, and here's to going from neutral to quadruple banned in the span of 10 minutes for sad crimes.

There was really nothing to support Duck’s feelings for Indrid. Sure, Indrid had called to warn him about Leo’s store (it still made his pulse race, Leo was important to him as a friend and now mentor and the thought of him …….yeah. It was scary.) but had otherwise inspired nothing but irritation and then the visceral instinctual reaction of fear based on his attempt at saying Danimal’s name and then his moth form. Or, well, sylph form. Indrid had made it clear based on the twist of his mouth that he didn’t really like being called the Mothman for whatever reason, probably related to how he had tensed and twitched repeating the body count from the Silver Bridge in that falsely cheerful voice when they met. Indrid was barely human by acceptable human social standards, smiled a little too weird to be acceptable, looked very….”off” in a way that was inexplicable, and seemed to cause a little tension with the residents at the lodge who had taken to whispering “fuckin’ Indrid” under their breaths when they caught wind of him being in town. Duck had asked once, pulling Barclay aside to ask about it because it seemed a little mean to someone who had seemed to be trying to genuinely help. Barclay was rather tight-lipped about it, had mumbled something about Indrid being a bit of a figure back in Sylvain before excusing himself back to the kitchen.

 

There was really nothing to support Duck’s feelings for Indrid. Not at first. But when he rolled back into town quietly he didn’t tell anyone, Duck only really knew seeing a copy of the permits all filled out perfectly, describing a Winnebago that was going to be staying in one of the less used campsites. Duck didn’t go to see him, figured maybe Indrid needed a bit of time after having such a close call in a scary situation. It seemed he was right considering about 2 weeks later he got a call, perfectly timed after he had gotten out of the shower and dressed and felt just loose enough to function before having to really commit to doing anything.

 

“Go for Duck.”

 

He picked up the phone, his voice still thick and unfocused with the content brought by hot coffee and a nice sunrise. He curled up on the recliner positioned perfectly to stare out the window, watching the birds that ate at the suction-cup bird feeder he’d pressed to the window ages ago.

 

“Hello, Duck Newton. I hope I’m not interrupting your pleasant morning?”

 

Indrid’s voice was soft and in tone with the morning, stirring something warm inside of Duck’s chest. 

 

“Nah, just enjoying the sunrise. I saw you came back to town and didn’t want to interrupt or nothin’.”

 

“I appreciate that. Gave me time to… settle. I was… hoping to… ”

 

Duck strained to hear as Indrid seemed to pull the phone away and mutter to himself.

 

“Hey stop lookin’ at futures and just ask, that’s cheating.”

 

Indrid laughed softly and hummed, causing Duck to smile.

 

“I was wondering if you would like to hang out tomorrow? I am….lacking in the friend department, and ….perhaps being social isn’t quite as bad as I had thought.”

 

Duck rubbed the tip of his nose against his sweater, his brain sparking pleasantly as he tried to figure out if he needed to do anything tomorrow. Coming up mostly blank he nodded to himself as he listed out things they could potentially do.

 

“Yeah sure, have anything in particular in mind?”

 

Duck stood up, dumping the rest of the coffee into the sink and rinsing it as Indrid took pause. He was inclined to repeat himself but bit his tongue instead. 

 

“Staying inside would be nice. Planet Earth? I’ve yet to see that and from what I can see you have all of them. I like that you collect them all.”

 

Duck tried to keep reminding himself in the next several weeks as Indrid became part of his life, that this was how friendships were formed. Indrid was a little different because he was an alien from another planet and a seer to go along with it, but he couldn’t help the way his heart crawled into his throat when he had to explain human social norms that Indrid just….dismissed. The way that Indrid always seemed to carefully look at him, carefully crafting some sort of response before just shrugging and saying “that doesn’t matter to me” was…..invigorating. 

 

Indrid didn’t seem to care that sometimes Duck couldn’t manage a response beyond a low, barely audible hum, or only eat an entire box of oatmeal pies because they were the only thing that didn’t make his entire being scream, or that he showered 3 times in one day because his skin crawled. Indrid, weirdly enough, got excited with him when he bought and washed a new blanket to add to the weird little nest they’d built on the couch or (embarrassingly enough) when Duck’s echolalia really kicked in and he repeated the weird noises Indrid made as best he could. It became almost a game, Indrid chittering or cooing and Duck copying without a second thought, only for him to sputter and hit Indrid with a pillow. Indrid encouraged the info dumping and didn’t seem to mind when Duck repeated himself in sets of 3’s for emphasis and even verbally prompted him in the moments when Duck trailed off, wondering if Indrid was bored because surely he’d heard it through his future sight right?

 

Indrid started smiling slowly, soft and warm like sunlight when Duck breached the barrier and leaned against him. Indrid stayed still when Duck’s gaze hovered around his nose and his hands in the air, shaking, trying to find….something…. Indrid encouraged a lot, unused to a lot of weird human social stigma. Indrid whispered, late at night when they curled in Duck’s warm bed where his heart hammered in his chest and Indrid held his hand so gently like he was fragile and precious, that he was happy he came back to town. That he had seen a million futures with and without Duck in them and that the ones where he came back were always the happiest. Indrid whispered into his hair, breath warm and smelling of syrup, that he really liked holding Duck’s hand and that he didn’t care what people in town think or what human society thought they should and shouldn’t do. That Sylvain wasn’t perfect but that they didn’t have so much stigma when it came to certain things. Indrid slides his cold nose against Duck’s wet cheek and a startled laugh bursts from his chest, choking him on wet gasps. 

 

They don’t kiss for a while.

 

They also don’t put a name on what they are or have.

 

Indrid keeps holding Duck’s hand gently and Duck continues to lean on Indrid in their little nest. Indrid learns when to sit on top of Duck’s chest with a glance because his weighted blanket isn’t heavy enough and Duck gets a little more confident making moth person noises. Duck feels better in his own home again, less invaded and more static. He walks on his toes again and gesticulates a bit more randomly and Indrid doesn’t bat an eye, and in return, Duck offers Indrid a second chance at showing off in a safer and more controlled environment. Indrid is nervous but slowly removes his glasses and now Duck is prepared, able to appreciate Indrid’s sylph form without the reactions of the others echoing in his brain. Indrid’s antennae twitch and his eyes glow and he spreads his wings out, fluffing out his ….mane? It looks like a mane and Duck doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until Indrid’s low laughter reaches his ears. Indrid sits, folding his spindly limbs into himself, allowing Duck sufficient space to explore in the tactile way he’s accustomed to navigating the world. There’s a weird combination of fur and scales and feathers but it works and Duck quietly smiles and Indrid makes sure his mandibles aren’t in the way as he gently bumps Duck’s forehead with his own. 

 

There was really nothing to support Duck’s feelings for Indrid. Not at first, certainly not when they had just met and Duck was already overwhelmed. But now? Curled up with a giant mothman who asks nothing of him other than understanding? Who Duck is pretty sure just chirped “I love you” in weird moth language while he was distracted? Based on the way his eyes lit up when Duck did his best to mimic and the way his wings vibrated when Duck refused to stop repeating, he had a pretty good idea. Indrid settled on Duck’s chest, pressing soft kisses to his face as Duck buried his hands in Indrid’s fluffy mane, for once not feeling quite so lonely. The world may have been spun to him as a cold, dark place full of fear, but right here with Indrid purring loud enough to feel deep in his bones, he was reminded once again that everyone who terrifies you is just made of sixty-five percent water. Duck had never felt so warm, bright, and loved.


End file.
